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Generally speaking, Kevin Connor (First You Fall, 2008) is very comfortable with who he is. He’s deeply in love with his conflicted boyfriend, Officer Tony Rinaldi; he’s recently turned to the Unitarian Universalist Church; he volunteers at Sunday school. In fact, he confides, “if I weren’t making such easy money as a hustler, I could see being a teacher.” Except for scat, golden showers and “insertive sex,” which he reserves for noncommercial transactions, Kevin’s available for most any kink, and he makes most of his encounters with self-styled dentists, battling clowns and podiatrists with foot fetishes sound both funny and touching. Life would be perfect if only Tony could commit to being gay in general and to Kevin in particular, and if someone hadn’t declared open season on so many of Kevin’s colleagues. Brooklyn Ray is dead. So is Sammy White Tee. And Randy Bostivick’s in the middle of telling Kevin what a totally unexpected client he entertained recently when he’s hit by a speeding car. Readers who aren’t as new to the genre as Kevin and Randy will be somewhat less amazed by the identity of the mystery client. In lieu of surprise, Sherman offers a priceless sequence bringing together Kevin’s hairdresser mother with her idol, talk-show host Yvonne Rivera; a first-person narrative by turns catty and brightly didactic; and a heaping helping of sex in every flavor, including vanilla (though not the vanilla you think).
Think of Frank Capra with fag-baiters, and you'll have a sense of Kevin's New York.
